Calm After The Storm
by I Feel Possessed
Summary: Thirteen year old G Callen has to navigate his way through an emergency foster placement after he attacked his previous foster father with a baseball bat. In less than twenty four hours he will discover if his future lies in a juvenile detention centre or if he will be given a final chance with another family.
1. Chapter 1

The house had looked a little run down with flowers fighting for position amongst the weeds and paint peeling off the window boxes. The hedges out front were looking a touch wild and overgrown. Thin new branches were trying to grow in random directions and would soon become a danger to passing pedestrians. Children's bikes and other toys were in the yard, some leaning up against the fence, others lay in the grass where they'd been left. A group of half dressed Barbie dolls had been carefully placed in a seated position around a dry, cracked circle of earth. The interior was pretty much a reflection of the outside; wallpaper was peeling away at the top of the walls and where the hallway merged with the staircase, it looked as though someone had tried to rip off an entire panel.

The house belonged to an approved foster family, the Findens who'd been taking in children for a number of years. Their charges were long and they always had room for emergency placements, the shortest of which had been for three hours. The Findens liked a full house and with a shortage of foster families in the area, social workers had developed a tendency to dump problem children on them to allow themselves breathing space to find a longer term alternative. Within their five bed house was an attic room containing a single bed which was reserved for the emergency children, or those whose behaviour meant for their safety or the safety of others dictated they be kept separate. The room had been empty for the past six weeks but today a new boy had arrived. Emergency. Removed from his previous foster family for violence and not for the first time. The social workers needed a stop gap to decide the best course of action. The police were still investigating the previous nights events and the social services manager was waiting to see if charges were to be pressed. That would relinquish his responsibility and mean the boy would fall in to the juvenile prison system. If he wasn't charged on this occasion, then it was only a matter of time before he was imprisoned.

Elizabeth Finden had welcomed the boy in the same way that she did to all the children who fell under her care, no matter their reasons for staying. Mr Chivers, the manager of the Los Angeles County social team had remained on the doorstep, reminding Elizabeth of the boy's shortcomings in full earshot of the teenager. He had remained silent throughout the exchange, staring in to the distance with a distinctly bored expression on his face. He had twisted away from the touch of Mr Chivers when he had been issued a warning about his future behaviour and Elizabeth had thought that interesting. It hadn't been a flinch, which she had witnessed from many an abused child but literally a pulling away, a separation. She had been briefed on the thirteen year olds background and knew there had been confirmed instances of physical abuse and Elizabeth wondered if his own violent attacks were connected. Mr Chivers had left shortly after, clearly keen to leave the 'problem child', as he had described him, to the latest of an ever increasing list of homes.

Elizabeth stood in the hallway and looked at the boy who silently and sullenly returned her stare.

'Hi, as you heard I'm Elizabeth and I live here with my husband Donald who's at work at the moment. We have six other children so you'll be the seventh. C'mon, I'll show you to your room.'

Elizabeth started climbing the stairs and paused to make sure she was being followed.

'Now what do you like to be called? G? Callen? Cal?'

Callen steadied his bedroll on his narrow shoulders and hauled the bin liner containing his belongings over the same one, thankful that it was pretty light.

'Callen.'

'Callen it is then. You're lucky, you've got the only single bedroom in the house - but unlucky that it's the attic room at the top of the house. There are two bedrooms and a family bathroom on this floor, next floor is mine and Donnie's room, another bedroom and smaller bathroom which you can use. Donnie and I have an en suite. We're right in the middle so if anyone has any problems, we'll be right there.'

Callen listened with half an ear, gleaning that he was in a room by himself and would have to negotiate every landing and hallway in the house when he decided to leave, which by his reckoning would be during the night. So far he'd managed to escape being sent to a juvenile detention centre and being returned to an orphanage. This was basically his new prison. Mr Chivers had called it a foster home but it looked to him like a children's home, fit for all the rejects the system hadn't yet figured out what to do with.

Elizabeth opened the door to the attic room. Callen entered and threw his bin bag on the floor and sat on the bed. He deliberately chose not to look around the room and instead stared straight ahead at the door handle. He had already assessed Elizabeth Finden. A late forties, stay at home foster mum that looked tired. Her brown hair was falling out of its bun and she was constantly tucking strands behind her ears. Callen almost asked why she didn't use a hair clip.

'So you must be feeling a bit lost and annoyed with everything.'

Elizabeth was met with silence. Callen was the thirty first child that had come through her doors and she was used to this behaviour. She entered his room and began to walk to the window.

'Stop.'

Elizabeth halted. There was a warning in Callen's voice which she had not anticipated and it was not pleasant.

'I'm sorry Callen, I was only going to open the window and point out that this is the only room where you can see the ocean.'

'Just go away.'

Elizabeth smiled slightly as she understood now the warning was not a prelude to a physical attack but merely the usual reaction from most teens she encountered.

'Sure, I'll let you have some peace and quiet. The older kids will be back from school in about twenty minutes so feel free to raid the fridge before they do. Dinner is a six.'

Callen watched his latest foster parent smile tentatively at him as she closed the door to his room. He listened intently as she walked away. When he was convinced she had really gone, Callen exhaled and dropped his shoulders. He had subtly taken in his new room the moment he stepped inside and had even managed to see the ocean, glistening bright blue in the distance. Standing, he walked to the window and tested the latch. It was unlocked so Callen swung the window open wide and leaned out. Luckily the attic window was set in the wall rather than the slanting roof although there was a small skylight high above the dresser. Looking down he could see very little that would aid an escape. The drainpipe was at the edge of the house and about two metres away from him. There were no trees or ivy that could be used to clamber across. Good choice for a home prison, he thought turning to the door in a sudden panic. Had he seen a lock or a latch on the outside? In three bounds Callen had crossed the room and wrenched the door open, half expecting to find it locked and eternally thankful that it wasn't. He checked the frame and the door and breathed a sigh of relief when there was none.

'Whatya doin?'

Callen jumped at the words and saw a scrawny kid of about five or six peeking round the banister at the top of the stairs.

'Nothin'. Go away.'

'Are you new?'

Callen stared at the boy, willing him to go leave him in peace.

'I think you are. I'm bored.' The boy leaned over the top stair and scratchy his shock of blonde hair.

'And?'

'Will you play with me?' He moved his toys to the landing so Callen could see that he really wanted to play a game.

'No.'

'I wanna play cowboys and Indians. You can be a cowboy and I can be a cowboy.'

'I don't wanna play. And how can you play cowboys and Indians if no one's an Indian?'

'I'm a cowboy and the Indians have me so then you are a cowboy and you come and get me. Look here's your hat and gun.'

The kid threw the toys towards Callen who watched them stop just short of his feet.

'I don't want to play.'

'Ok.' The kid looked sad for all of two seconds and then piped up again. 'I know. You can be the cowboy and I can save you from the Indians. I can be the Indian, I've got the bow and arrow. Here.'

The kid was inching his way closer to Callen and showing him an ever increasing stash of toy weapons.

'I lost the arrows so Eddie got some sticks and made me some more.'

The boy put his fingers to his lips and motioned Callen to be silent. He then rather clumsily turned around and peered downstairs.

'Eddie has a knife and he made these arrows real good. But he told me not to tell anyone as it's a secret.'

That piece of information woke Callen up. The Swiss Army knife he had obtained at his last home had been confiscated and returned to its rightful owner. It was another count of theft the social workers had against him and one that was deemed too minor to involve the police, even though technically it was a weapon. Instead all Callen had now was a rather blunt switch blade that was hidden in his bedroll.

'Who's Eddie?'

'He's like you but he's at school.' Frankie scratched his head and comically looked as though he was considering a very serious situation. 'Why aren't you at school?'

Callen shrugged his shoulders and replied. 'Why aren't you at school?'

The boy mimicked Callen's actions and then unable to stay quiet, continued the conversation.

'I got sick last night so Elizabeth said I could stay home coz if I got sick at school she would have to come and get me but she had to stay in today coz you were coming and she had to be here for you.'

'I bet you felt better after the others went to school.'

'Yes.' The boy said, slowly nodding his head. 'How did you know?'

'I sometimes get ill like that.' Callen said, understanding well how lying and truancy started young and continued forever. At least that was the way Callen saw it. 'What's your name?'

'Frankie. I'm six. What's your name?' Frankie stuck out a finger and pointed at Callen.

'Callen.'

'Do you want to play cowboys and Indians now?'

'No.'

Callen watched Frankie's face drop, figuring the kid should get used to disappointment.

'Please?'

'Only if you tell me about everyone here.'

'OK.' Frankie broke in to a smile.

'How many kids live here?'

'That's easy. Five.'

'Elizabeth told me seven.'

'No,' Frankie shook his head. 'Me, Eddie and David, Kat and Abigail and William.'

'That's six.'

Callen had watched Frankie in amusement as he counted on his fingers and still messed up. His face fell in disappointment that he had been unable to give the older boy the correct answer.

'Oh. Miss Edwards said I was getting real good with my numbers.'

'Yeah. Well if you count me then it's seven. Who sleeps in the bedroom on that floor?' Callen pointed down the stairs.

'Kat and Abigail sleep in there. They're twins and they look like each other. But I know which one is Kat. I like her the best.'

'How old are they?'

'They're like really old. They might leave school soon.'

'Who sleeps on the floor below?'

'I do.'

'And?'

'And Eddie and William and David and we got one room. I have to sleep on the bottom bunk but I keep trying to get the top bunk instead of David but he keeps telling me off.'

'Why are you all in one room?'

'When Adam was here he was really horrible and got some paint and threw it all over his room. He got in to lots of fights and was really scary. And then he stole Donald's car and all the money.'

'So what happened to Adam?'

'He didn't go to school anymore. I think he went to jail.'

'What?' Callen was confused. That didn't make sense, mind you he wasn't sure that anything Frankie said actually made sense. 'Why didn't he go to school?'

'He left school. He was older than Kat and Abigail and David.'

'Did he get arrested?'

'Donald thought I was asleep but we could see the flashing lights out the window. And there was shouting and they took him away.' Frankie held a finger to his lips, hoping Callen understood that was a secret.

'Can we see the ruined bedroom?'

'Donald says we're not allowed in there. He says he needs to work harder so he can get more money to pay for it.'

'So how old is Eddie?'

'He's thirteen and very tall and he's my best friend. I want him to be my brother. Oh and he's so tall he's like a giant.'

'What about David and William?'

'William is a baby. David is, um... I think he is nearly sixteen. He wants to drive Donald's car but no one's allowed.'

'How long has everyone been here?'

'Longer than me. You ask too many questions. Can we play cowboys now?'

Callen looked at Freddie and figured he'd done well with his answers. He really didn't want to play kiddie games, it interrupted his plans to figure if he should risk staying and see what social services were going to do with him or if he could gather some funds and runaway. He reckoned he had ten minutes before the others came home from school.

'Ten minutes only and we play here. You wear the outfit but I'll be sheriff. Give me the badge and gun.'

Callen reluctantly managed to clip the badge to his t-shirt and waved a gun in the direction of his room. Frankie leapt to his feet with a massive grin on his face and shrieked in delight as he charged in and jumped on the bed. Callen shook his head and followed. This was going to be the longest ten minutes of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

At four o'clock the noise level of the house increased tenfold. Doors slammed, rucksacks were thrown on the floor and cupboard doors were opened. Footsteps pounded the stairs coming closer and closer to Callen's room.

'What'ya doing with Frankie?'

An angry looking youth with dark brown floppy hair stood in the doorway. He seemed about Callen's age but much taller and broader. His eyes darted all over Callen's body and face, and then to Frankie who escaped from the tangled mess of Callen's bed and ran towards the new arrival, wrapping his arm around the boy's legs. Callen guessed he was Eddie.

'What d'ya think I'm doing?' He replied cockily. There was a pecking order to every home he had ever stayed in and bitter experience had taught him to challenge everyone.

'Eddie, Eddie, this is Callen and he's being playing cowboys with me.' Frankie tugged at Eddie's jumper, keen to show off his new friend. 'The Indians got me and tied me up in blankets and then Callen was the sheriff and saved me. But he took ages to start playing.'

'Yeah?' Eddie continued to stare at Callen who returned his stare with an icy chill to his eyes.

'He asked loads of questions on everyone and said he wouldn't play until I told him.'

'Is that right?' Eddie said slowly. The standoff between the two teenagers went unnoticed by the six year old.

'So I told him everything Eddie. And then I told him about Adam and the paint. And then he wanted to see the room but I told him that Donald said we weren't allowed in there and then we played cowboys. Do you want to play Eddie? You can be the Indian with the arrows. I'll get your bow.'

'Frankie you take it all outside. I'll see you out there in a few minutes then we can play.'

'Yes.' Frankie cheered and let go of Eddie's legs to collect the toys from the floor of Callen's room. 'Bye Callen. Oh, you can be the sheriff again when you come outside with Eddie.'

Eddie turned his head slightly to check Frankie was on his way outside whilst keeping half an eye on Callen. When he was safely gone, Eddie focused his full attention on the latest addition to the foster family. The two boys faced each other in silence, neither willing to be the first to break away and show deference.

Eddie broke first. 'We could stand here all day but this is my house and Frankie is like my brother. I don't appreciate you using him to find out information about me or anyone else here. Stay away from him. Stay away from all of us. You got something to say, you say it to me not a six year old.'

'So I guess that means _you_ want to be sheriff?' Callen knew his words would annoy Eddie but he was not going to be bottom of the food chain in anyone's house.

Eddie walked slowly in to the room, making sure he drew himself up to his full height. He was head and shoulders above Callen, who held his ground. Only the bed separated them.

'I know why you're here and why you've been put in this room. The Findens take in all the emergencies and trailer trash problem kids. Y'know the kind. The ones no one has ever wanted in their homes for more than a week. The ones that should be in prison. I bet that's you - _Callen_.'

Eddie spat out the words and once again scrutinised Callen. He saw a short, scrawny blonde boy that looked about eleven or twelve. Callen was wearing dirty jeans that were riding up around his ankles. His white t-shirt had a logo that was so faded as to be almost invisible and even describing it as white was being generous. Repeated washes had given the t-shirt a grey hue which was clearly not its original colour. A bin liner lay near the window and an army green rolled up mat was nearby.

'That is you isn't it. You've got nothing. And then you come in here thinking you can take what we've got. Well that ain't gonna happen.'

Callen let the words wash over him. He'd had much worse welcomes before and at least this one didn't involve a fist in his face. Well not yet, anyway. That was a bonus.

'I'm doing what I have to, _Eddie_.' Callen chose his words carefully. 'Not gonna be too good for me if ol' Donnie is a paedo and I suddenly find I have a bed buddy later tonight. But don't worry, I can keep a secret. I won't tell anyone about your knife. Frankie and me can keep that secret.'

For a moment Eddie looked torn between jumping the bed and thumping Callen and protesting his innocence. He quickly realised that neither were worth it.

'I've been here five years and the only trouble we ever get is from the fuckwits like you and Adam - all the rejects that get taken in here. It's my job to protect the others so if the Findens find out I have a knife, I'll make your life hell.'

'And how ya gonna do that, _Eddie_? Set Frankie on me?'

Callen could see Eddie was becoming uncomfortable. He guessed that Adam had ruled the roost previously and this protector role was all new to him. His threats came from his height and Callen wasn't sure if Eddie was the violent type. He just couldn't help but push Eddie's buttons. He honestly didn't care if Eddie was kingpin in this house; as long as Eddie knew that he wasn't going to cower to his empty threats.

'Stay out of our way and we'll stay out of yours.'

Callen threw a sarcastic smile at Eddie, noting the words had now changed to we rather than I. He was now convinced that Eddie would not be a problem and he watched in quiet amusement as hetook two paces back and then turned to exit the room. Just as he walked through the doorway Callen called out.

'Don't forget your sheriff's badge, cowboy.' He threw the small plastic badge at Eddie who clumsily caught it as it landed against his chest. A now thoroughly bested Eddie shot a daggered look at Callen and walked away.

Callen sighed and sat down on the bed, twisting to move the sheets and blankets away from him. He lay down and stared at the ceiling. He didn't mean to make an enemy of Eddie. In fact he was sure he could easily turn him in to an ally. Eddie certainly wasn't half as tough as he thought he was. He hoped the twin girls and David would be ok. Guys he could handle but bitchy trouble making teenage girls he could not. After all he couldn't punch a girl. If he had learned anything in life, adults hurting kids was just plain wrong, and so was hitting girls.

\- NCIS Los Angeles -

Dinner was the usual strange affair. Callen was used to being the new child at the table, being stared at in silence, faced with a barrage of questions and talked about in barely disguised whispers. His first evening with the Findens was no different, despite the best intentions of the foster parents. Everyone had sat down around the large family table once Donald had returned from work and Callen was introduced. Kat and Abigail were sitting next to him and were the primary offenders for whispering behind his back. Eddie sat opposite, trying to psyche Callen out by glaring at him. Next to him was Frankie with David sat on the other side. David was tall and wide, thick rimmed glasses perched at the end of a small snub nose. He looked nervous and shy. Callen now understood why Eddie felt the need to be the protector. Donald and Elizabeth sat at either ends of the table. William was in a highchair, squealing in delight at the faces Frankie was pulling. The adults attempted civil conversation, asking the children about their day at school. Eddie challenged Callen about school, why he was living with them and when he would be going, persistently ignoring the pointed stares and comments from Donald. Kat and Abigail continued to whisper together and Frankie seemed to have the innate ability to talk non-stop, eat and make faces, amusing David as well as the baby. Callen kept his head down and slowly ate his dinner, looking up occasionally to give short one word answers. Eddie's sustained verbal attack was starting to wear Callen down and he could feel his heart start to race. He was not one to remain silent when he was on the receiving end of any abuse. Callen rested his knife and fork on the edge of the plate and tried to breath steadily. He thought about reaching out for his drink and taking a sip but knew the action would not calm him down - he would end up throwing the glass at Eddie's head. Callen stared at his plate and tried counting to ten. The noise at the table suddenly overwhelmed him and he was just about to snap when there was a loud thump on the table.

'That is enough Edward.' Donald Finden had smashed his fist down on the table and was now on his feet. 'I thought we'd taught you that everyone deserves a second chance and that's what everyone gets when they walk through our door. A fresh slate no matter if they stay one hour or ten years.'

Eddie chewed his bottom lip, thinking briefly before scraping his chair back so he too was standing.

'I gave Adam a second chance and look what happened. He's just like Adam. I can see it in his face. Look at him.'

'Eddie,' Elizabeth spoke, trying to break through the chilly atmosphere which had been developing over the last ten minutes. 'You can't judge a book by its cover. You know that.'

'He was pumping Frankie for inside information on all of us.'

'But he made the best sheriff ever.' Frankie piped up, smiling broadly at Callen.

Callen raised his eyes for the first time during the confrontation and looked at Frankie. The kid was so innocent that Callen wondered if he had ever been like that at the age of six or whether he had already been distrustful of others. Frankie's smile was contagious and Callen gave an involuntary smile in return. It was an action that did not go unnoticed by either Donald or Elizabeth.

'I think Callen was trying to find out if he would be safe in this house or if he had to watch his back around anyone.' Donald had sat back down leaving Eddie the only one standing. 'He's here because he has no one else, same as each and every one of you. Adam had the same chances - he just chose not to take them. Now sit down and finish your dinner.'

Eddie glanced around the table and reluctantly retook his seat. Callen refrained from catching his eye and smirking - it took a lot of self control but he succeeded and he nearly smiled to himself at the achievement. There was an awkward silence that lasted less than a minute until Frankie started talking again and baby William began cooing in delight.

The bedtimes were staggered and a protesting Frankie was bathed with William and tucked up in bed just after seven. The rest of them had a ten o' clock curfew for bed which seemed ridiculously early to Callen and to the other teens. It appeared the rule was being imposed purely due to his arrival. Eddie and David were banned from the bedroom until ten to make sure they didn't disturb the younger boys and could no longer make use of the now occupied attic room. Callen had been asked to help David clear the table and wash up and the two boys conducted their chores in silence; one too shy and the other too withdrawn to speak. As soon as the table was clear it was homework time and Callen was surprised that all Elizabeth had to do was gently ask if they had any homework and the four teenagers all sat down and began working.

Callen stood holding the dish cloth, unsure what he was expected to do and desperately hoping he could escape to his room. Yesterday he had attended his local high school, well technically he attended the first lesson and then decided he was bored. Instead he had wandered the streets, stealing a candy bar and bottle of pop and exploring a boarded up factory on a nearby industrial estate. If he had known what would happen later that night he would have holed up in the factory. No one would have known where he was and no one would have come looking for him. Sure his foster family may have alerted social services when he failed to return after maybe a week. The police would be given a report and asked to keep an eye out for him but they rarely had time for teenagers that ran away from the system. Their interest only piqued when said teen committed a crime and could be labelled a menace to society. Callen had been arrested before, mainly for theft, and had either been let go due to lack of evidence or given a warning. He knew his luck would expire at some point though.

Elizabeth broke his spell by offering him his desired escape. There were fresh towels on his bed and the bathroom was now free. Callen seized the opportunity without a backwards glance. He hadn't washed since the previous morning, not that he was particularly bothered. But he felt dirty in himself after the previous night's events. There were no bruises to show as he'd been alert and on the offensive. Although he was loathe to admit it, the damage was psychological, just as it usually was. Every evening for the last three weeks he had taken on the role of protector for a young brother and sister, and every evening he had succeeded in keeping them safe. Last night he had almost failed. Almost. It might not feel like it but he had won in the end. All three of them had been removed from the foster house and would never be at risk from Roger Cranley again. Callen could appreciate Eddie's moves earlier but now he had only one person to protect and that was himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Callen heard footsteps on the stairs and the creak of the landing floor boards. He held his breath and counted to five and right on cue there was a knock and his bedroom door opened slightly, allowing a slither of light to penetrate the blackness.

'I just wanted to check you were settled OK?' Elizabeth poked her head around the door and smiled at Callen.

'I'm fine.'

'I also wanted to apologise for Eddie's behaviour earlier. The trouble with Adam has made him very protective of Frankie. Um, your social worker told me about what happened last night.'

Callen closed his eyes. 'Go away. I'm tired.'

'Look, I saw you with Frankie and I don't believe the social services account of events. You were -'

'Shut the door on your way out.' Callen turned to face the wall.

'Ok, goodnight Callen. If you need anything please just ask and help yourself to any food or drink if you get hungry during the night.'

Callen failed to answer and Elizabeth, satisfied that he at least heard her words even if he didn't acknowledge them, gently closed the door.

Callen stared at the wall. The last twenty four hours had been a roller coaster of events and he was exhausted. He had barely slept at all the previous night; police cells were not exactly conducive to a satisfying night's sleep. He had dozed off in the car on the journey from the precinct to the welfare office, and again on the final leg of his trip to the Findens. He actually had no idea where he was, which wasn't particularly useful if he decided to bolt. Time was running out. He knew from bitter experience that emergency placements could last anything from a few hours to a few days. His fate lay in the hands of his care manager Mr Chivers, who had usurped authority from his social worker.

He wasn't scared of the dark, he never had been but tonight he desperately wanted to feel that there was some kind of hope out there. Sure the foster parents seemed to be OK but then they were paid to be. Callen slipped out of bed and drew back the curtains. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic he threw the window open wide and leaned out, breathing deeply. Everything was going to be alright, he said to himself, repeating it several times, yet at no point believing it. Best case he would be given a final warning. Worse case he would be sent to juvie. A bang came from the stairs nearby and caused Callen to jump. He froze in panic before quietly moving the room's only chair and jamming it underneath the door handle. Satisfied it would hold, Callen pulled the mattress from the bed and moved it next to the chair. Delving in to his half empty bin liner of clothes, Callen quickly dressed himself in jeans and t-shirt and slipped on his sneakers. 'Don't trust anyone' had become his mantra over recent years and generally it had served him well. Crouching on the mattress, Callen puffed up his pillow and wrapped himself in the blanket. He was now as prepared as he could be for a quick exit, which in practical terms meant he would hide in the wardrobe and hope that anyone entering his room would think he had climbed out the window. He fell asleep dreaming of the ocean and the incessant sound of the waves crashing on the shore that he wished he could hear.

The house was asleep. The quiet residential road was devoid of movement. Silence ensued. Callen woke with a start, sweat running down his face, his palms tacky. His heart was racing and his breathing came in shallow gasps. He could not be certain but thought he might have been yelling or maybe even screaming in his sleep. He throat was sore and his mouth dry. He had woken with a headache and felt a little sick. Callen listened intently, straining to hear if it had been a rogue sound or deliberately muffled noise that had woken him. There was nothing. He thought again back to his...nightmare. He knew that's what it was even if he had no recollection of what had frightened him but he could easily guess. He rarely slept well, courtesy of his life in the welfare state and his constant need to remain alert. Slowly, Callen could feel himself calming down. His heart rate was easing and his breathing became more regulated. He was still sweating even though he had kicked his blanket off in the throes of his nightmare. He cocked his head towards the door, again listening carefully for a full five minutes before he was finally certain that he had woken no one else. Gingerly he pushed the mattress to one side and moved the chair from beneath the door handle. He opened the door a crack. There was a glow from the nightlights on each landing below, which was very convenient. Callen had memorised the layout of the house but guidance, especially in a less than calm state of mind, was greatly appreciated and no doubt the reason for the lights in the first place.

He could hear static noise from the television before he had descended the final flight of stairs. Slowing his pace Callen trod gently, wondering if someone had left the TV on. Turning to his right he saw Donald asleep in the armchair. If he woke up he would have the perfect view of a fully dressed Callen sneaking around the house. That would not look good at all however it was a risk Callen had to take. If he was caught he would be accused of attempted theft - of anything - and trying to run away. He had no intention of either, well not yet although running away was immensely appealing. As far as he was concerned that would most likely land him in more trouble than if he was caught stealing. He just desperately needed a drink and maybe some biscuits to line his stomach. He was hot, parched and still felt a bit queasy. Bloody bad dreams, he swore to himself.

Ignoring Donald, Callen turned left in to the kitchen. He had no idea where anything was kept and decided the best course of action was to search the top cupboards first, anticipating that biscuits would be stored out of Frankie's reach. He opened two adjoining doors and stared at a kaleidoscope of coloured and mismatched plates, bowls and plastic cups. Next shelf up and stacked high were some glass tumblers. They seemed much more appealing that a kiddies cup. Knowing he would be unable to reach one without bringing all the glasses smashing down, Callen moved a chair from the table, placed it underneath the cupboard and stood on it. He furtively glanced towards Donald and was satisfied that he hadn't moved and was in fact now gently snoring, which was fine provided they didn't get louder and he snored himself awake. Callen had landed himself in big trouble once before when that had happened. He removed two glasses which were jammed together. He wiggled them from side to side and then swore when one a hairline crack appeared in one. He quickly checked on Donald again but there was no change. Callen replaced the glass in the cupboard and placed the other on the side. Reaching across he opened the next cupboard door and was relieved to see several tins with lids and half a dozen packets of biscuits. The tins piqued his curiosity and instinct took over. For some reason unknown to him, people like keeping money hidden in containers like these. Money for a rainy day, special treats, to pay unexpected bills and to fund untrustworthy teenagers like him, who had more of a need for the money than the adults ever would. Callen leaned over and grabbed the smaller caddy which was strategically hidden behind the others. He glanced again at Donald. Sound asleep. He watched him of a few minutes, well aware that if he awoke now he would be caught red handed. Content he was as safe as he could be he opened the lid and smiled slightly when he caught sight of the notes rolled up inside.

Callen stepped down from the chair and counted the money from the tin. Three hundred and twenty one bucks in total. Not bad, he thought. He was about to pocket the lot when he suddenly felt queasy again. Remembering what he was searching for in the first place, Callen carefully stood back up on the chair and replaced the money and the tin. He knew where it was and could easily take it again before the break of dawn. This time reaching for the biscuits, he removed three from the packet and climbed back down from the chair, quietly moving it back to the table. With his glass now full of tap water Callen sat down at the table and placed his head in his hands. He hurt. His head hurt and he was empty. The adrenaline from the previous night and his emergency placement had now worn off. He felt ill and he had a dilemma. A decision to make. He could leave now. Run away and disappear from society. He knew where the runaway kids gathered along the boulevard in Hollywood and by the coast in Venice. No one would look for him and he could easily take care of himself. The other alternative was to stay and accept whatever fate Mr Chivers deemed fit. He doubted he would be staying at this placement for more than another twenty four hours. This was emergency care only. He strongly hoped he would be given a final warning and placed with another family. If that failed, it would be juvie without a doubt, especially if his last foster father pressed charges. Bad behaviour, previous crimes, truancy, running away. Hell they would even make up shit just to get him off their books. They were never able to place him anywhere for very long. He had been given a stay of execution last night with the police, dependent on their enquiries but if the foster father, Mr Chivers and law enforcement officers agreed, he may well be headed to a juvie prison tomorrow. It would happen eventually, he was sure. He was destined to end up in jail and there was no hope, no ray of sunshine, no fork in the road for him. He felt like crap. His head was now pounding and he was still sweating. He wasn't ill, he would bet money on that. He was tired. So tired. Grabbing the still full glass of water and the biscuits Callen sighed and returned to his room. His fate was already written in the stars, he was convinced of that.

Donald opened his eyes fully. He had woken the moment he heard Callen's bedroom door open. In addition to their long term foster children, he and Elizabeth had accepted many children requiring emergency care for a multitude of reasons over the years. Unfortunately some were tremendous losses like Adam, others were ones that could swing either way, which is where he pegged Callen. He had continued in his pretence to be asleep to give Callen the benefit of the doubt and he was pleased that he had done so. He couldn't quite tell if Callen palmed some of the money or replaced it all, but what was key, was that he had returned to his room. The boy at looked ill, pale with glistening skin in the dull light of the kitchen. Donald had observed Callen sitting at the table, clearing fighting an internal battle that only he could win. Bitter experienced told Donald it would be a huge mistake if he approached the child now. He and his wife had received the edited highlights of Callen long term and recent history. It was all they ever received, edited highlights and he dearly wished he could say or do something to ease the boy's pain. Instead he pretended to snore gently and watched through barely open eyelids as Callen climbed back up the stairs to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

Callen awoke to the sound of birds singing. Groggily he opened his eyes and wondered why he could hear the chirping of wildlife. It took him several seconds to realise where he was and that he had slept with the window wide open. He could not hear many vehicles on the nearby roads and only soft sounds emanated from the house. He guessed the time was around five thirty or six in the morning. The kitchen clock was reading ten past one when he had ventured downstairs; for him that was a decent night's sleep. Sitting up Callen pondered the reasons why; exhaustion, feeling ill...or did he just feel a little safer here? Possibly all three he thought, standing up and stretching. He walked to the window and leaned out. Elizabeth was right. If he looked he could see the glistening of the ocean in the distance. Silent and calm. That's what he needed to be today, silent and calm. Not let his mouth run away with him and not allow anyone to wind him up. Best behaviour for Mr Chivers and maybe, just maybe luck would swing his way. He looked back at his room, figuring he'd better replace the mattress on the bed and tidy the sheets and blankets unless he wanted to answer a whole barrage of questions about how he spent his night.

Gradually the rest of the house came to life. Doors opened and closed, teen voices, male and female grunted and Frankie could be heard asking if he could wake Callen. Despite himself, Callen smiled. It actually sounded like a normal family, not one made up from a collection of damaged and unwanted kids. But then these kids were wanted, they had been found by the Findens and given a loving home. He was the one not wanted here. Eddie had made that abundantly clear the previous evening. There was a patter of little footsteps on the stairs, followed by a knock on his door and Frankie shouted.

'Callen are you still asleep? Elizabeth told me to tell you breakfast is ready.'

'I'm awake now,' Callen muttered under his breath despite having been awake for several hours already. Silent and calm, he told himself. 'I'm not hungry.' He called back.

'Um. OK. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Elizabeth says so. And I say so. Are you ill?'

'No.'

'Um. OK. Can you come down to breakfast then - please?'

'I'm not hungry.'

'Um. OK I'll tell Elizabeth you're ill. I hope you don't need a doctor.'

Frankie charged back down the stairs before Callen could formulate a response. He was now convinced the six year old was plain crazy. Five minutes later there was another knock at the door, this time preceded by the heavy footsteps of a man. Donald.

'Callen? Just checking if you're OK. Frankie says you're not feeling well.'

'I'm not hungry.' Callen repeated, starting to feel like a parrot.

'Are you ill?'

'No.'

'Can I come in?'

'No.'

'Please? I'll stay outside your room, I just prefer to not talk to anyone through a closed door.'

'No.'

Donald softened his voice. He did not want to converse with Callen through a closed door however he also wanted to respect the thirteen year old. He took a step closer so he was next to the doorframe and started speaking.

'Look Callen, I think you might be ill. I fell asleep downstairs last night and briefly woke up when you came down. I saw you sitting at the table. You were clearly not well.'

Callen stood still on the opposite side of the closed door. Donald had seen him. Had been watching him? For how long?

'Why were you watching me?' He asked accusingly.

'I didn't want to scare you.'

'So you _watched_ me instead?'

'I didn't want to scare you,' Donald repeated. 'I wanted you to feel safe, secure. If I had walked over to you, you would have bolted either out the door or back to your room. I just wanted to make sure you were OK.'

'You said I looked ill so why did you think I was OK?'

'Because you took food and water upstairs. You were fully dressed but you didn't run away. Are you ill?'

Callen swung the door open and stood just inside, ready to face off against Donald if required. His body language and positioning meant there was no way Donald could interpret that he had been invited in to his room.

'I'm not ill.'

'Well I'm very glad to see that. And I'm glad you trust me enough to open the door.'

'I don't trust you. You've seen that I'm Ok so now you can go away.'

'Callen, I trust you and so does Elizabeth. We've got pancakes on the go with chocolate sauce and hot cocoa. There's always a sweet treat on the last Friday of every month.'

Callen looked puzzled for a second. He hadn't realised it was Friday. That meant there was a risk he could be here over the weekend. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

'C'mon, have pancakes. There's syrup and jelly if you're not a chocolate lover. Or fruit for a healthier option? You do realise Frankie will be up here again if you don't come down soon and I guarantee he won't be so polite to keep talking to you through a closed door.'

'You threatening me with a six year old?'

Donald caught Callen's eye and thought he detected a slight softening. The voice was no longer quite as rude and sarcastic so it was a possibility.

'Yes,' he smiled. 'C'mon. Reckon you've got less than a minute before he comes up.'

'Ok.' Callen reluctantly agreed. He walked to the door where Donald was waiting for him, gesturing for him to walk ahead. Callen shook his head slowly. There was no way he was walking downstairs ahead of any foster parent.

'Oh, wasn't thinking,' Donald murmured with the shake of his head and began to lead the way downstairs.

The kitchen was full and heaving with activity in a marked contrast to the relative calmness of the previous evening's dinner. William was making a mess in the high chair and enjoying every second of it. Frankie seemed to be scooping the remains of William's breakfast in to his own mouth and as a result, chocolate was also smeared across his face. He moved his head away and laughed whenever Kat or Abigail or whichever twin it was tried to clean his face. David was helping the other twin cook the pancakes as Elizabeth made school lunches. Eddie was darting in between everyone to start setting the table. Callen hesitated, taking in the scene.

'Callen, sit down.' Elizabeth said, glancing over her shoulder and flashing a quick smile.

'Yes Callen, sit down,' Eddie repeated, with no hint of humour in his eyes.

'I'm not hungry,' he lied, just as his stomach growled.

'Liar!' Eddie stared accusingly.

'Eddie!' Donald said sternly. 'No wonder he says he's not to be hungry if he's gotta put up with you and your attitude.'

'Sorry,' Eddie mumbled.

'That's better. Callen, help Eddie set the table. I need to finish getting ready for work.'

Callen was unclear if the apology was actually meant for him and figured it wasn't. He watched Donald walk back upstairs before switching his attention back to Eddie. The tall youth chucked a plastic table cloth at him, ordering him to cover the table. Callen did as requested, smoothing out the edges and quickly snatching his fingers away when Eddie deliberately tried to dump a pile of cutlery on top of them.

'Watch it,'

'I was,' Eddie murmured. 'Shame I missed stabbing your fingers.'

'Fuckwit.' Callen whispered back so only Eddie could hear.

Eddie turned away from the table and grabbed some plates from the cupboard, his height easily allowed him to reach the higher shelves.

'Here.'

He handed Callen the plates without waiting for him to be ready and there was an almighty crash as all bar the one plate Callen managed to catch, smashed on the hard kitchen floor.

'Boys!' Elizabeth exclaimed, her face a mixture of annoyance, frustration and anger.

'You idiot! Why did you drop them?' Eddie asked Callen, his voice rising in temper.

'Because you never actually gave them to me. Dickhead.' Callen matched Eddie's tone.

'Ok, ok, that's enough. Look it's fine. Just go to the living room while I get this cleared up. David, grab the dustpan and brush for me.' Elizabeth looked flustered, shooing the two teenagers out of the kitchen area.

'That was plain clumsy of you Callen.' Eddie continued as they walked in to the living room. 'Got no motor skills? Bet you get picked last for sports teams Hell, bet you don't get picked at all.'

'You're a fucking idiot. That was all your fault.'

'Oh dear.' Eddie whispered, nudging in to Callen as they moved to the centre of the living room. 'Think you need to learn some more words. Bet you don't even go to school you're that stupid. Trailer trash.'

'Go to hell.' Callen sat down heavily on the sofa. He did not want to talk to Eddie.

'Thick as shit trailer trash.' Eddie murmured with a smile and lilt to his tone. 'Don't you start crying now.' Eddie raised his voice and walked a few paces so he could see in to the kitchen again. 'Did anyone else hear a strange noise last night? Like crying?'

'I thought it was you telling Frankie to stop talking in his sleep,' Kat said, now in charge of the cooking while David helped Elizabeth pick up the broken plates from the floor.

'T'wasn't me, Kat,' Frankie said, his mouth stuffed with a pancake to save them being ruined.

'I thought it was a scream.' Abigail piped up. 'But I thought I dreamt it.'

Callen was beginning to grow increasingly uncomfortable. His bad dream had clearly led him to call or cry out in his sleep, waking himself up and most of the house. He shifted position slightly. They all had to know it was him.

'Sounds like it was nothing.' Elizabeth looked up from the floor. 'Probably just the neighbour's cat calling out again. You know the number of times I think I hear William cry and it's just old Smokey.'

'No,' Eddie persisted with a sly glance at Callen. 'I think it was a loud cry or a scream. Probably a cry. What do you think Callen?'

Callen stared at Eddie, knowing if he didn't reply quickly they would all have their confirmation it was him.

'I...'

'Was it you?' Eddie lowered his voice and turning his back on the kitchen he walked towards Callen, stopping when he was standing only a few paces in front of him. 'Were you crying and screaming like a baby?'

Callen stood up and stared at Eddie, a cold and calculating hardness to his eyes. He had done nothing to warrant this behaviour and he was certainly not going to put up with it anymore. Callen's feet were shoulder width apart, his right foot slightly back and to one side, the instinctive positioning meant he could lay the first punch which would probably be needed as he most definitely at a height disadvantage. He spoke in an equally low voice that sounded twice as threatening as Eddie's.

'I had a nightmare and you want to know why? Because of me protecting kids in my last foster house.'

'Don't talk shit. You couldn't protect a paper bag, you're like some dwarf teenage retard.'

'Stop being a dick _Edward_. You're not tough or smart. You're just a bully with no clue how to keep Frankie or anyone safe.'

'You emergency placements are totally screwed up. You're here because you're a trouble maker and welfare can't decide what to do with you. Just like Adam. I'm protecting my family from scum like you.'

'Protecting how? By bullying me?' Callen took a step forward and readjusted his stance, jabbing a finger in Eddie's shoulder. 'Two nights ago my foster dad tried to get in to bed with a seven year old. She was already scared so I stayed awake to watch out for him. I kept hitting him with a baseball bat so hard it broke. She escaped and y'know what? I get arrested and then dumped in some strange home with pricks like you. I don't even know where the fuck I am and what are you doing? Threatening me with your stupid little words. Fuckwit.'

Callen's voice had risen throughout his outburst and by now the kitchen was silent. Elizabeth gestured the girls to take Frankie and William away from the area and to warn Donald that the boys were verbally circling each other, both getting ready to pounce.

'I'm warning you...

'About what? You're pathetic _Edward_. Even Frankie could take you down.'

Those words spurned Eddie in to action. Frankie was the one person he had to protect and Callen's words insulted him to such a degree that he could not comprehend. In a flash he balled his fist and punched Callen in the face, causing the smaller boy to stumble backwards. Somehow Callen managed to keep his balance and seeing Eddie pause to gloat, Callen literally charged and knocked him off his feet. Eddie fell to the floor and Callen jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He raised his arm, ready to reign down a series of blows when Donald came up behind him and hauled him off.

'Edward.' Donald shouted, keeping a tight grip on Callen's arms. 'Go upstairs and get cleaned up. Now.'

'He started it.' Eddie protested, glaring at Callen. 'You wait. I'm gonna tell your social worker what you've done. And the school. And the police. You're psycho!'

'So what?' Callen could feel blood trickling down his face. 'I'm not going to your crappy school. And I'm not scared of your stupid threats.'

'Callen!' Donald now turned his attention to him. 'Sit down and shut up. Edward, get upstairs to the bathroom. I won't tell you again. Either of you!'

Both boys reluctantly did as they were told. In the kitchen Abigail straightened the table and passed a crying Frankie to Elizabeth. Kat had taken William outside and away from the fight and David was standing still, shocked at the scene that had unfolded so soon after the chaos Adam had brought to their lives. Elizabeth gestured to Donald signalling him to follow Eddie upstairs.

'David,' Elizabeth had walked in to the living room and turned back towards David. 'Go get me a clean cloth and the herbal cream from the bathroom. Callen let me have a look at your eye.'

Callen dabbed his finger to the side of his left eye. It came away sticky and he looked at the blood on his fingers. He already knew he was bleeding but he'd had worse. He closed his eyes briefly. Cut eye, black eye. Whatever. It would leave a mark that his social worker would see and that would be it. There would be no second chance. Game over.

'It's nothing. I'm fine.'

'No you're not fine.' Elizabeth corrected. 'But you will be once I patch you up.'

'She's got this magic cream.' Frankie sniffled. 'It makes bruises go away.'

'It really does.' Kat piped up. She looked alert and on edge. Callen would have bet a lot of money she'd witnessed these kinds of scenes many times before. 'Y'see when Adam was here, he attacked Eddie because Eddie stopped him from hitting Frankie. Y'know Eddie really didn't mean it.'

'It's all my fault.' Callen was usually loathe to admit anything but he was to blame. He just couldn't stay silent and calm, he had to let his mouth run away with him and allow his temper to get out of control. Again.

'No Callen it's not.' Elizabeth said. 'Kat, you're really not helping, love. Eddie was out of order and you know he was deliberately provoking Callen until he got the reaction he wanted.'

Callen was really not sure Elizabeth's words were working for either him or Kat, but they both managed to look contrite.

'Donald will drive y'all to school this morning. He's a late start in the office today.' Turning to Callen, she continued. 'He's a realtor and has a local viewing. And your welfare manager is due here at eleven, so we need to get you sorted out. Clean that eye up, get you washed and some clean clothes.'

'I had a bath last night and these are clean clothes.' Callen protested. It seemed like a lot of effort for nothing.

'Callen I do talk with my husband. You slept in those clothes and looked like you were running a fever last night.'

'Then they'll know something happened.' He said sullenly. If he suddenly looked all sparkly clean with different clothes it would only arouse suspicion.

'Something did happen and that wasn't your fault. And you can't help but have bad dreams with what you've been through. You're a very brave young man and saved a young girl from a terrible experience. And probably very confused about life at the moment.'

'Life sucks.'

'Oh Callen. If I thought you'd appreciate it I would give you a great big hug. Your life doesn't suck. You and Frankie have bonded. Although it's difficult not to bond with him. The only reason we're here like this now is because Eddie was taunting you. He had a tough time with Adam and was on the receiving end of a lot of nastiness. He doesn't understand how to process his emotions and is reacting in a way that mimics how he's been treated in the past. You have the same kind of reasoning in your behaviour which is why you were ready to fight back.'

'They're gonna send me away so why bother pretending everything's fine.'

'Hope they lock you up and throw away the key.' Eddie had come back down the stairs and was being ushered out the door by Donald. He had caught Callen's last words and saw the opportunity to have one final dig.

'Don't forget to keep your pocket knife safe. Don't want you cutting your own finger off now.'

'Knife?' Donald looked questioningly between the two boys. 'Eddie get in that car. You and I are going to have a long talk this evening.'

'You idiot Callen, I'm gonna get you for this.'

Callen stared at Eddie. He didn't care about his threats. They were empty and he would be long gone by the time Eddie returned from school. Donald shook his head and pushed Eddie towards the door, continually telling him off.

'Callen!' Elizabeth said. 'None of this is helping anyone. You've set Frankie off again now. Just sit back in that chair and stay quiet. Let me clean you up.'

He looked at Frankie who had started crying and felt a pang of guilt. 'I'm fine. I can do it.'

'No you can't. Now still and quiet. And stop poking your eye.'

Callen finally obeyed. He had reluctantly become the centre of attention as everyone watched Elizabeth clean the blood from the side of his face and dab cream around his left eye socket. He had no idea what this magic herbal cream was but if it was as good as the others said, maybe he might have that final chance after all. It also sounded like Elizabeth and Donald were not going to report his fight with Eddie and that meant it would be down to Mr Chivers as to what would happen to him next. Callen looked at the carriage clock that sat over the fireplace. He had just over two and a half hours to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

Once the other children had left for school, Elizabeth placed William on the floor in the living room and gave Callen strict instructions to look after him. Callen wasn't very good with babies or toddlers. By the time they were around Frankie's age they became more interesting but younger than that...He couldn't understand what they were saying and might eventually have admitted to being scared of them. They were so small and precious and helpless that he truly thought he might accidentally break one. He did not want that kind of responsibility yet Elizabeth had left him no choice. She had gone to search for clothes that her foster boys had outgrown, saying she kept everything she could, knowing that her and Donald could be called on at any moment to take in children for any reason. Callen watched William crawl to the edge of the sofa and carefully pull himself up until he was standing. Then with precision, he walked sideways like a crab, using the sofa as a safety rail to keep himself upright. When William realised he had Callen's full attention he stopped, removed his hands and began to smile and dribble. Callen sat on the edge of the chair and watched. William turned towards Callen and took one step to the side, clapping his hands together in acknowledgement of his own clever achievement. He then fell promptly on his bottom and looked surprisingly shocked. Callen waited with baited breath for William to start crying. Instead he crawled over to Callen's feet and looked up at him.

'What?'

William made some unintelligible sounds in response. Callen looked up towards the hallway, willing Elizabeth to return.

'OK,' he sighed and slid from the edge of the chair to the floor.

More unintelligible sounds came from William and after a lot of pointing from both, Callen found himself reluctantly playing a game that involved sorting shapes and poking them through the correct holes in a plastic cube.

'Right.' Elizabeth returned with an armful of clothes and placed them on the sofa. 'Seems like you have everything under control Callen?'

'Guess so,' Callen shrugged in response.

'Good. I found a few t-shirts, sweatshirts and jeans that I think will fit.'

Elizabeth held up each item before passing them to Callen for inspection. The thirteen year old gave them no more than a cursory glance and advised they were ok. All of his clothes were second hand and there was no denying he was in need of some more. Glad she could provide Callen with some form of help, Elizabeth offered to run him the shower in her en suite bathroom, reassuring Callen he could lock himself in and take as much or as little time as he wanted in complete privacy.

* * *

Callen watched the hands on the clock tick round. He had been sitting on the sofa in the same position for the last ten minutes. He was clean and wearing second hand clothes that were in a decidedly better state than his own. He had even allowed Elizabeth to discard the worst of his original wardrobe. He felt fresh, had a full stomach and for the first time in months, felt comfortable with himself and his surroundings. But as the clock hands came closer to the eleventh hour, nerves kicked in. Callen rubbed his fingers together and jigged his knees up and down. Elizabeth saw the changes and tried to reassure him that everything would be ok.

At eleven on the dot the door bell rang, startling both Elizabeth and Callen. Elizabeth threw a rueful smile in Callen's direction, but the teenager was too engrossed in his fear to see her support and solidarity.

'I'll get that.' Elizabeth said more to break the silence than for any other reason.

Callen remained on the sofa and stared at the floor.

'Ah, Callen.' The deep voice of his welfare manager sounded loud in the silence of the living room. 'I trust you've been behaving yourself?'

'Yeah,' Callen muttered. He resisted the temptation to poke at his eye in guilt. When he had last looked in the mirror there had been no bruise forming and the cut was barely visible.

'Go sit at the table and I'll tell you what we've decided to do with you.'

Callen slowly stood and moved to the kitchen table. Elizabeth poured Mr Chivers a coffee from the pot she'd put on just before eleven and gave Callen a fresh juice.

'Mrs Finden, what has Callen been like since yesterday afternoon?'

'He's been quiet, kept to himself although he did spend time playing with Frankie, our six year old.'

'How did he interact with his peers?'

'Callen has just been quiet with everyone. No trouble at all.'

'Well that makes a change.' Mr Chivers looked at Callen, holding his stare for what seemed to be an eternity to both Callen and Elizabeth, who squirmed uncomfortably at the way Mr Chivers was speaking to Callen. 'Trouble seems to be your middle name, boy.' Turning to Elizabeth he continued. 'I would not usually be involved in placing children but this boy has been through five different social workers in less than a year. He has lied, cheated, stolen, runaway and made ludicrous accusations about his care officers and the families he's been sent to.'

Callen lowered his head, studying the wood patterns on the table and wishing Mr Chivers would just shut up and get to the point. He didn't need to be reminded of his past or of the incompetent social workers he had been assigned, or even of the foster families he'd had to endure.

'Well I can honestly say he's not caused any trouble here. In fact I have three seventeen year olds who are due to leave for college in the next six months and I would be more than happy to foster Callen.' Elizabeth turned to Callen, a sincerely apologetic look on her face. 'I just can't keep you on at the moment Callen. I hope you know that I would if I could. I think you would thrive here.'

'Yes, well.' Mr Chivers narrowed his eyes and glanced between Callen and Elizabeth. He wondered if he had missed something, something that remained unspoken although so far Callen was behaving exactly as he expected; sullen and unresponsive. 'I've spoken to the officers investigating your attack on Roger Cranley.'

There was a pregnant pause. Callen was not sorry about beating his last foster father. In fact in hindsight he wished he had hit him harder, right between the legs and caused him permanent damage.

'How's Maddie?' He asked, loathe to fill the void of silence.

'Maddie is so traumatised that she's refusing to speak to anyone. You see the effects your violent behaviour has on others?'

Callen could feel his anger starting to churn in his guts. Calm, stay calm he thought. 'Maddie would be much more traumatised if I let Roger Cranley rape her.'

'Quiet! With Maddie not talking there is no one to corroborate your story.'

'It's not a story.' Callen muttered.

'That's enough! Luckily for you Mr Cranley does not want to press charges, which is no way an admittance of his guilt. Just means you once again escape a trip to the juvenile detention centre. So with that no longer an option I've had to decide what to do with you. Orphanage, children's home or yet another foster family. What d'ya think Callen?'

Callen took it for a rhetorical question. It really didn't matter what he thought or said. The decision had already been made and Chivers was enjoying drawing out the pain. He made out he was considering the options although he had long since weighed up the pros and cons of each. An orphanage would be like going back to the start. His earliest memories were of the orphanage on the east coast and they were not pleasant. Still, he could run away. Same with the children's home which would be much more regimented and full of kids just like him. He would run away from that too. Another foster home? Hell, he'd been through so many he wondered if there was anywhere left for him to stay. They ranged from decent, to abusive and that middle range, where the foster parents didn't care one way or another. Fine. He would run away. He knew the safe places to go, where the other teens gathered in safety. It wasn't as though he hadn't done it before. He could look after himself. He had done so for years.

'Well?'

'Foster home.' Callen realised he was actually expected to answer.

'I'm really not sure I agree. You don't deserve another chance Callen. After all who would put up with you once they were told about your history? It's my job to look at all three options which I have done. And against all my instincts I'm giving you another chance.' Chivers leaned forward in his chair and jabbed a finger towards Callen. 'You boy, have one last chance. There will be no violence, no fighting, truancy, swearing or running away. You say please and thank you and you not only stay at school but there will be no detentions. If you can't behave I will make sure you're locked away. Last chance. Understood?'

Callen nodded his head. He knew he had been given a life line, yet even that came with its risks.

'Good. There's a family new to fostering. Name of Rostoff. Russian. Been living in the States for fifteen years and have a four year old daughter. For some reason they're happy to have a teenage boy even after they found out all about you. They live over in West Hollywood so we've got quite a drive ahead. Get your stuff. We leave now.'

Callen hesitated slightly then pushed back his chair from the table and ran upstairs. He didn't need to be told twice and did not want Chivers to think he wasn't grateful. He just hoped they spoke English - or maybe not. He might have an armchair ride of it if their English was poor. Callen slowed down as he approached the door to his room. He may have only spent less than twenty four hours here and had several run ins with Eddie however overall he conceded that this was one of the good ones. He had thought about leaving a present for Eddie, maybe by way of taking something from him and then he thought back to Elizabeth and Donald. They had both treated him well, even tried to look after him. Best leave on a high Callen thought, abandoning his idea. He grabbed his bedroll and the black rucksack Elizabeth had packed his clothes in. He was thankful he no longer had to haul around a bin liner of belongings. It was so demeaning, dragging round a trash bag with his meager possessions.

He jogged downstairs, pausing at the last step when he heard he was being talked about. That was not unusual in itself, however hearing Elizabeth asking Chivers to keep her and Donald updated about his progress was. Maybe they really would be able to foster him long term.

'Ah Callen, eavesdropping again?'

'Didn't want to interrupt.'

'Not like you to actually have any manners.'

'Sorry.'

'Hm. You must really want this last foster home. Let's go.'

'Callen, I think you will do really well with the Rostoff's.' Elizabeth stood up and smiled at the thirteen year old. 'I'll see you both to the door.'

Callen followed his social worker to the front door. Sometimes it was good to leave without others seeing yet this time round Callen actually wanted to say goodbye. Well at least to Frankie and to Donald. Mr Chivers opened the door and all three of them stepped outside.

'Mrs Finden. I'll be in touch over the next month to discuss the next moves for the seventeen year olds.'

He held out a hand which Elizabeth shook firmly. The look in her eyes belied her true feelings about Mr Chivers and also held trepidation about the future of her children who were due to leave care. Callen caught the expression on her face and felt a pang of nerves. He only had a few years left before he was in the same position. Would he be kicked out on the street? How was he supposed to live? He checked himself quickly. He was street smart and independent and was already thinking about leaving social care under his own steam as a Russian family sounded really dicey. He knew nothing about Russia except that not so long ago they were America's enemy and probably still were. Alarm bells were already ringing and he would not hesitate to run away if the Russian's turned out to be weird spies or something.

'Callen. Thank you for coming in to our lives even though it was for such a short time.' Elizabeth smiled kindly at the teenager and reached out, gently rubbing his shoulder, pleased that he did not flinch.

Callen looked in to Elizabeth's eyes and nodded slightly, his lips curling up a little at the corners.

'Thanks for everything,' he said.

He turned on his heel and followed Mr Chivers down the pathway to the car. He glanced left and right, noting the bicycle left on the grass and the Barbie dolls laying by a circle of dried, cracked mud. His first impressions had been of a foster family that was poor, that couldn't be bothered to clear away after the kids, or kids that ran riot. He now saw the toys as part of a carefree existence and knew the flaking paint and overgrown hedges were not as important as maintaining a happy and healthy house. Yeah they still had their problems, particularly the after effects of their last emergency placement. Then even Eddie wasn't bad, not by the standards and comparisons Callen could make. He clambered in the back seat of the car and closed the door. There it was. Another barrier between him and a normal life. He stared out of the window and watched Elizabeth wave as Chivers pulled away. In a few hours he would be starting all over again. Again.

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Thank you all for reading, following, favouriting and leaving comments and reviews. They are all very much appreciated and I especially enjoy reading your thoughts after each chapter.


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